


That Face

by ginghamchu



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginghamchu/pseuds/ginghamchu
Summary: Branch tells about an experience he had with Poppy when they were young.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this on my Tumblr, [**here**](http://omgthatsruff.tumblr.com/post/153189526126/an-angsty-story-about-branch-and-poppy-interacting). Sorry there's no song in this one!

The air was stifling, the pot filled with bodies, each one breathing and existing with a warmth that came alongside life. A packaged deal, a packaged meal. 

Despite all of them, all I could see was Poppy, the shaft of light illuminating the soft edges of her face, casting her features in silhouette across her skin. Eyes down, kneeling, the position of submission. The position of surrender. Something I never thought I would see from our Princess. 

The look on her face, however, was one I had experienced before. Our own private secret, held between us in a way I’d never been able to bring up again, despite the vivid manner in which it existed within my memory.

We had been young, still in classes together. What little they taught us, they taught in large groups. The teacher, whose face I can’t even remember, had caught Poppy and I, pulling us aside as the others tumbled into the large pod. I had thought I was in trouble – it was a pretty common occurrence, with my attitude – but the teacher had said she’d give us a “special assignment” for the day.

I had blanched, Poppy had smiled. I wondered how she felt about having to be stuck with me for the day, but if it bothered her, she hadn’t shown it. Her eyes were as bright as ever, wide and wet with the wonder of everything around her. 

We were sent down to the edge of town, just along the mushrooms, to gather seeds for snack time. We walked along in silence. I honestly had no clue what to say, and no real desire to figure it out. Poppy was singing to herself, her voice already clear and strong, despite her age. We were reaching the edge of the forest, and I was absorbed in my thoughts.

“I know why teacher sent us here,” she’d said, turning to look sideways at me. I hadn’t noticed how quiet she’d become, but now she was almost whispering. I leaned in reflexively to hear her, and we stopped walking, a leaf handing above and casting a shadow over us both.

“What?” I mumbled back. I had a real way with words back then.

“I know why teacher sent us here,” she had said again, her eyes meeting mine, then looking at my feet. She seemed almost shy. “The class is talking about mommies today.”

“What… what does that have to do with anything?” My face screwed up, but I was already connecting the dots. I ran my hand through my short hair. It caught, and I took a moment to pull it back out, frowning.

“The class is talking about mommies today, cause it’s almost Mother’s Day soon,” she explained, quietly, still looking at the ground. I couldn’t see her eyes through her lashes, they were so thick and low. 

And then she whispered, “but we don’t have mommies.” 

A lump formed in my throat. I made a small noise, but I bit my lip to try and keep it from coming out. It didn’t work. Her lashes lifted, and I could see her eyes again, glistening with something I could only guess was tears. For a moment, one of the few I would experience until much later in my life, I wanted to hug someone. Specifically, her. My heart ached, not just from what she said, but because I didn’t know what to do to make it better for her. 

“I...” I started, but I couldn’t even find words. The Princess hiccuped, a closed fist coming up to wipe away the first of her tears, and I stood with my arms open, halfway between a shrug and a salute, my heart suddenly beating so fast I couldn’t breathe. What good was I?

“I miss my mommy,” she had whispered. She was so young, and though I had a few years on her, I was young too. Too young to have lost a mother, and a grandmother. The lump in my throat was growing, pushing something forward. I could feel pressure behind my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry in front of her. I suddenly felt very stupid.

“Me too,” I had finally said, simply, and she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me before I could stop her. Something shot through me, an electric shock that pushed me over the edge. I stood for a moment, arms still out, before slowly wrapping myself around her smaller frame, my arms pulling her closer. I couldn’t cry, something held me back still, but I held her, letting her weep softly into my shoulder, and trying my best to enjoy the warmth of her against me, and take what comfort I could.

The guilt had seeped into my bones like cold water, slowly at first, then all at once, numbing me, freezing my body, making my muscles and bones so stiff I felt I would crack if I moved. What right did I have to hug anyone? Why should I be allowed to be comforted, after what I had done? I distracted myself, listening to her whimpers, and stroking her back in a way I hoped was at least a little comforting.

When she had finally pulled away, I felt nothing, but when she’d managed to smile at me through her lingering tears, I had melted into something closer to a troll. That was the effect she had on others, even then. Sure, I was still broken, but my existence had been of some use to her. 

Now, 14 years later, standing in the darkness, watching the light illuminate her, I knew the true meaning behind what we had shared. I had taken it, as I always did, the wrong way. To be there for someone was not to be of use to them. It was to share an experience, and come out stronger together on the other side.


End file.
